


Breathe

by invisible_slytherin



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, M/M, Panic Attacks, eliott is having a terrible week and an even worse day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 20:37:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17884802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/invisible_slytherin/pseuds/invisible_slytherin
Summary: "As much as he liked to represent himself as a raccoon, he still hadn’t managed to fully learn how to wear his mask."Or, what happens after the Mercredi 10h40 clip, from Eliott's perspective.





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning for anxiety/panic attacks.

Eliott didn’t know what to do or where to go.

 

He needed to get away. He needed to leave the school. Needed to get away from Lucas.

 

Both for Lucas and for himself.

 

“I don’t need crazy people in my life,” was what Lucas had said.

 

He had stopped talking to his own mother because she was what he called the ‘crazy’. If Lucas didn’t talk to his mother because of that, then there was just no way he would want Eliott in his life. Not if he ever found out the truth about him. Because who is Eliott when compared to his mother? He's no one.

 

Lucas didn’t want to deal with the burden that came with being close to someone who was mentally ill. Eliott understood that. He knew it was hard and that if Lucas had grown up with only his mother, it couldn’t have been easy on him. Eliott didn’t want to be a burden for Lucas. He just wanted to be able to love him and be loved by him.

 

But he needed to get away.

 

It had been so difficult to act normal when Lucas had looked at him and told him about his mother. It had been entirely too hard to keep his emotions hidden. To keep the tears inside and the smile outside. He hadn’t even managed it.

 

As much as he liked to represent himself as a raccoon, he still hadn’t managed to fully learn how to wear his mask. Especially around Lucas.

 

Get away.

 

He couldn’t bear to be hurt by the coming storm that would be Lucas finding out the truth about him. He feared to have to watch Lucas’ blue eyes turn cold. He feared to watch his smile disappear and his posture tense up. He feared being hurt. He couldn’t let things get to the point where it would be impossible to leave.

 

Getting away would keep Lucas happy and protect himself.

 

He walks out the school much too quickly, ignoring the bell ringing and the classmate who asks if he’s coming to class. He’s not. He needs to get away.

 

His first instinct is Le Petite Ceinture, his own little heaven, the place where he can be safe and alone. The place where he can hide away from the harshness of the world. He needs it right now. So much. After hearing Lucas saying the words that cut deeper than any knives ever could, he needed it more than ever.

 

He didn’t know how long it took him, but he eventually got to his personal safe space. He sat on the floor of his tunnel and looked at the wall in front of him. It wasn’t dark like he preferred it, but it was still isolated and the only noises around him came from the wind blowing through the trees and the occasional bird singing. It was peaceful and he could almost feel himself calm down enough to be able to breathe properly again.

 

But then he looked around and the place that used to work wonders on him was suddenly making him feel suffocated.

 

He had been right here with Lucas last Friday. They had smiled and laughed and joked around in here. They had kissed in here. They had stood just outside in the rain, their lips locked and their arms around each other. Eliott could almost see it and it was suffocating him.

 

He had had something so good that he had wanted so much.

 

And then, all of a sudden, he didn't have it anymore. Because of this part of him that he couldn't control or change.

 

He got up. He couldn't stay here. Not in the place where he had shared such precious moments with such a precious person. Not in the place where the characters he had dreamed up had come to life in the form of Lucas and himself. Not here. Definitely not here.

 

He ran home, took the same path he and Lucas had taken last Friday but went in the opposite direction. Both literally and figuratively. He ran home, passed by past Eliott and past Lucas running together and laughing. He ran home and let the tears fall.

 

It was hard to breathe. The run making it even worse for himself and his lungs. It was suffocating and he just wanted to find a place where he could lay down and try to ignore the world as much as possible.

 

He opened the door to his apartment with shaky hands, the keys almost falling to the floor in the process.

 

Inside the house, after he closed the door that connected him to the outside world, he tried breathing in and out slowly. His back against the door and his hands clenched in fists on his jacket. He needed to breathe.

 

He stood on shaky legs, feeling like his knees would give up at any moment. He needed air.

 

He tried walking to the living room without falling to the floor. One hand pressed along the wall for balance. His eyes becoming slightly fogged up and unable to focus on anything.

 

He sat on the couch before he could fall to the floor. One hand gripping his shirt, right above his heart, trying to calm down the frantic beat inside his chest.

 

He looked forward, eyes zeroing on the wall full of drawing ahead of him. His foot tapped against the floor, following the pattern of his breathing. In. Out. In. Out. The oxygen hurt his lungs after all the time they had spent lacking it in the past minutes.

 

Slowly, it was getting easier to breathe. He could feel some of the clouds and weird coloured spots in his vision leaving his eyes and, although his hands were still shaking and his heart was still beating way too fast, he could feel himself calm down slightly.

 

He sat on the couch for a few more minutes just staring ahead, tapping his foot against the floor and trying to get his breathing as much under control as possible. There was no hurry in getting up, he told himself, he could take his time, there was no hurry, he could do it. In. Out. In. Out.

 

He finally let his eyes roam the wall he had been staring at for so long. He saw all the racoon drawings in there and, once again, he wished he could have the same mask they did. That he could hide behind it and adapt to anything life threw his way. But he couldn’t so he was stuck dealing with the disappointments and the hurt without anything to protect himself.

 

If the raccoons were a reminder of what he wanted to be but wasn’t, then the new hedgehog drawings were a reminder of what he wanted to have but couldn’t. It hurt to look at them, it hurt to think about how enamoured he had been while drawing them. It hurt to think about what he had been thinking then, to think of blue eyes and soft hair and a beautiful smile. It hurt to think.

 

He looked away. But looking away from the drawings proved to do nothing for his breaking heart. As soon as his eyes weren’t on the wall, they were on the piano and he could see it right now. He could see Lucas sitting right there, he could see his fingers pressing against the keys and he could hear the soft melody Lucas had played so effortlessly and beautifully. It hurt to remember.

 

He took a shuddering breath and took a step back, staggering and almost falling. He couldn’t be here. It was suffocating. Lucas had been here, they had been so happy when they had been here just a few weeks ago. And now everything had slipped away and Eliott couldn’t take it.

 

His safe haven reminded him of Lucas and his own house did too. He didn’t know where to go or what to do.

 

How can one even mend a broken heart? How could he even deal with a broken heart on top of the week he had been having? He couldn’t. It was too much. He couldn’t.

 

He went to his room. His head feeling light. Stumbling a little along the way. He felt cold sweat all over his body and he was shaking again.

 

He didn’t know if being alone was the best solution or if he should be dealing with this alone. It probably wasn't. He probably shouldn't. But he didn’t want to be a burden or to get hurt. He had already had enough hurt today.

 

He lowered the blinds of his room as soon as he got inside. Shed his jacket to the floor and took off his sneakers as quickly as possible because he felt too hot even though February isn't supposed to feel hot. He closed the door and got into bed, he was too hot but he needed the safety so bad he couldn’t even focus on that. The covers were pulled over his head quickly and he tried to breathe in the small amount of air that was below the covers.

 

He was feeling light-headed and, somewhere in the back of his head, he worried he would pass out if he didn’t get some air into his lungs as soon as possible. But it was so hard and the covers seemed like a thin but solid, physical wall between himself and all the knives aimed his way.

 

He hugged the covers to himself wishing he could shut down his brain and stop thinking. Just stop thinking and remembering and wondering and imagining. He needed to stop. But he couldn’t and his hands were shaking again and his heart was beating too fast to the point of hurting.

 

He needed to calm down but the more he told himself that, the more the pins and needles seemed to pierce through his skin. He scratched his arms to get rid of them. He wanted them gone. He wanted it to stop.

 

It felt like ages before he could breathe at a more normal pace. Before his heart slowed down and the covers weren’t being held so tightly. There were tears on his face and sweat all over his body, he needed a shower and to eat and drink something but he couldn’t get up. He couldn’t leave the bed and the little safety nest he had created. He had nowhere else to be safe. He couldn’t leave.

 

He hugged himself and kept breathing in and out. Shaky, unsure, almost choking. But breathing.

 

He only got up hours later. The lights were still out and he stumbled to his desk. Still shaking, still fearful that something would hit him out of nowhere and send him spiralling again down the black hole that had consumed him before.

 

He grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil and went back to safety. He only turned on the bedside lamp because he really needed the light to draw, but he didn’t look around, afraid of what was lurking in the corners.

 

Drawing had always helped him. It helped him breathe more easily and, by putting his feelings on the paper, he could let go of them a little bit. Just a little. Just enough for now. It worked for him, always had and he would always use it. But sometimes it wasn’t easy. It never automatically heals him. Everything takes time.

 

He drew a wall. The wall that was separating him from the world, protecting him from the knives and the hurt. The wall that was keeping him safe. And he drew the little raccoon. Only the little ears peeking out from above the wall, the rest of the body hidden behind it.

 

He was hiding away and he would keep on hiding. For himself and for Lucas who didn’t want people like him in his life.

 

He put down the drawing and turned the light off before sliding down the bed again.

 

His head hurt. His breath was still shaky, as were his hands and legs. His heart was still beating a little too fast. He was still sweating and there were still tears in the corner of his eyes.

 

But he laid down, covered himself and hugged his pillow. Eyes wide open and focused on the wall he couldn’t see in the dark.

 

And Eliott breathed.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This was the most serious, heaviest story I have ever written. Some of this comes from personal experience and I also did some research but every person is different and I still worry that I didn't do it right for Eliott. I truly hope I did it justice. Thanks for reading!


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